Mother’s Day Sermon, Pastor Brigette Weier

In our gospel reading this morning, we are hearing the last few lines of what is known as the High Priestly Prayer-Jesus praying to God on the behalf of the disciples and for those believers to come-namely us. These words are full of imagery of the unity, relationship and love between God the Creator and Jesus as God’s son, as well as a prayer for humanity to reflect and be this unity, relationship and love with one another. I have a picture of the famous Andrei Rublev Icon from1410 that hangs in my office (show on screen). I love this image because it shows the Triune God in this  relationship. God the Creator bowing to Jesus (God incarnate) the Redeemer who bows back to the Creator and the Holy Spirit the sanctifier who in turn bows to Jesus. Not one persons of God is more important or higher but all are equal community around the table. The three persons cannot be separated and each needs aspects and attributes of the other for wholeness and completeness. God is not complete without Jesus and Jesus is not complete without the Holy Spirit and the Holy Spirit is not complete without the Creator or the redeemer. But what I love even more about this icon is the space at the table that is open-it is space for you, me and all of God’s people. There is space at the table to be in full and permanent relationship in the very life of God and our presence is part of the wholeness of God. There is something of us in the very life of God that also completes God. It also reminds me that I am a part of something bigger than myself and my own little corner of the world.
In John, Jesus is naming this very reality in these seven verses. The love that flows through the Triune God in deep and abiding relationship, spills out to us…and Jesus is praying that this love flows through us to everyone in the world. This is beyond choosing to share this communal love with our biological family or just people with whom we are comfortable, but it is to share this love with whomever God gives us-places in our midst- to love, regardless if we would name them as part of our biological family or not.
We live in a culture that likes to think that there is a narrow definition for family. The word “family” quickly can conjure up images of the often idealized nuclear family, a la Leave it to Beaver or the Huxtibles. For decades, the nuclear family was perpetuated as the most stable and functional. These families were considered the most self sufficient and so no one outside of the immediate family was necessary or helpful. Some of this has, of course, been proven false over the years, and all of the different configurations of family such as blended, single parent, same gender parents, adult children living with aging parents or even three or more generations in a home are much more prevalent in the past few years and we are even seeing some of that trend finally being reflected in media culture. But sadly, it seems that there is still a loud voice in our culture that declares that anything outside of the nuclear type family leads to the decline of “these real families” even attacks the idea of stable family.
However, when you look up the definition of “family” in Merriam Websters, alongside the definition of the biological family is this one: “a group of people who are united by certain convictions or affiliation.” There is no mention of biology or DNA at all. Over and over we see Jesus’ own ministry calling into question what constitutes a family and redefining the idea of family. He speaks of families being divided and of loving complete strangers as oneself. From the cross Jesus redefines his own mother’s relationship with the beloved disciple-”Woman here is your son.” And to the disciple, “here is your mother.” It seems that DNA is not that important to Jesus as far as who is considered family. What is important to Jesus, is commitment and unconditional love to one another, who will walk the difficult journey with you,  and who will nurture you in the faith of a loving and forgiving God. What is important to Jesus is how we affiliate with one another.
This is not a definition of family that our society is that comfortable with living into. We tend to believe the culture that tells us that we can go it alone, or that we should be able to go it alone– in raising our children,  living completely independently without any assistance and also that we have nothing to offer anyone else who isn’t actually related to us.
So, here we are on Mother’s Day-a day where Hallmark tells us that we should honor those women who have children. And while we often associate this day with going to church, I want to point out that this is not a religious holiday. It’s actually a day that runs counter to God’s message of community and definition of family. Society has lifted up this day as important but in reality it can be a painful day where inadequacies, loss and grief abound. This day does not acknowledge women who have buried their mother, women who have buried their children, women who don’t know where their children are, women whose children are ill, women who did not or could not have children. It also does not acknowledge women who love and care for children that are not biologically related or who love and care for children that they will never meet or see. This day does not speak into the reality of Jesus prayer of all people being one in the life of a relational God who doesn’t care about who is actually related to whom but declares that all people are God’s very own children and so are all one family bound in love.
The church knows what the world does not-we need one another. Jesus is praying that we keep this at the forefront of all that we do as people of God-a family of God. Jesus prays that we remember that the baby crying next to us in worship is our baby to bring to faith and can remind us of joy. The teenager feeling lost and drifting in life is our teenager to walk beside and counsel and gifts us with their  young wisdom. The toddler with more energy than all of the adults around her is our toddler to chase for a bit and offers us wonder and exercise! The elderly person no longer able to leave their home is our grandparent in need of a visit or assistance and can offer us beautiful stories of a full life. The family without a home are our brothers and sisters to house and can point to our need to work for fair housing. We are not complete without one another. You are important to the completeness of my life, to the completeness of the person next you, to the people in our neighborhood whom you have never met and to God.
The kingdom of God is about family, a family that continually broadens beyond itself to encompass more people and looks for more connections in community and to be continuously connected to God. Just as in the Rublev Icon there is a place at the table for you, for me, and all people, this table right here is a concrete and real place where we can invite all people in our community to gather in the very life and presence of a gracious, loving and communal God. Today we don’t celebrate only mother’s, we celebrate all of the women in our lives regardless of biological ties, who share with us the nurturing God who created us in her image for one another, who gave us her son in order to be with us always and breathes her very life into all of us so that the world may know the name of God and the family of God. Thanks be to God

 

God’s Misdirection

Acts 16:9-15

I’ve discovered some difficult things about God over the years.

~God rarely does what I want.

~God doesn’t do things the way I think God should.

~God doesn’t ever seem to do anything directly; always some roundabout way.

~God doesn’t hold efficiency in very high regard.

I only hope God knows what God is doing. Because a lot of the time I really don’t know. Once again, that’s not exactly how I’d like God to be, but it’s not like I have a choice in who God is or how God works.

One source of consolation I have in my confusion about God is that the early church seemed to experience God the same way. Right before this reading in Acts, Paul, Barnabas, Silas, and a new disciple Timothy are on a roll. They are going around sharing the new decisions made by the church leaders in Jersusalem. Everyone’s excited that anyone is now welcome in the church–Jewish or not. Everywhere they go, the churches are receiving this news, they are growing, the Spirit of God is working, all’s well.

So they keep going. Trying to go to the next church on their journey to share the news and bring encouragement. For some reason it isn’t working. They can’t get there. So they try the next church; can’t get there either. Obstacles, road blocks, hindrances, whatever. They aren’t able to get to the nearby churches to encourage them.

(As each site is mentioned, use the whole nave as a regional map: pointing out Jerusalem, Troas, The Aegean Sea, Samothrace, the Region of Macedonia, the cities of Neapolis, Philippi, and finally Thyatira). The only road left is the one southwest to port city of Troas. They weren’t sure what to do. But Paul had a vision of a man in Macedonia calling for help. You’d think getting a vision from God would make things clear. But is anything really that clear from God? There are some questions. First, is this really a vision from God? Who is the man? Where in Macedonia are they to go? What is the “help” he’s asking for? After the group talked about it, and together they decided this was God’s direction for them. And off they went, sailing from Troas, stopping on the island of Samothrace, landing at Neapolis, and finally ending up in Philippi, where they hung around for several days–still not knowing what to do. Uncertainty? Confusion? Could be God at work.

Having no other direction, they figured they may as well go see if there were any church people around, so they went down to the river–apparently where religious people go when there’s no synagogue. And there they find Lydia who listened, whose heart was opened, who was baptized, and who hosted them in her home.

That’s all well and good. Except Lydia is from Thyatira, which was in the general direction they were trying to go in the first place.

Apparently, that’s how God works. God wants you to talk to someone east of here, so God sends you west. God’s geography makes great sense, doesn’t it?

How often does God do this kind of thing? Give away your stuff to become rich. Become like a child to become wise. Die to yourself in order to rise to new life. Sit at the lowest place at the table to get to the highest. Be last in order to be first.

At least God seems to be consistent in this kind of mis-direction. And, I have to admit, on those occasions when I catch a glimpse at what God is actually doing, I’m struck by the imagination of the God who is present with us. In order to talk to Lydia, who is from a city east of Paul, God sends him west.

Just when you think you have God figured out, you realize God was going a different direction the whole time. In the midst of confusion, God provides riddles. In the depths of despair, God brings surprises. Just when you’re sure things can’t get worse, God meets you when they do. When you’ve hit a dead end and can’t figure which way to go, God points in the opposite direction. When you’ve given your all and have no fight left, God says that’s OK, your fighting wasn’t very helpful anyway. When you need to talk to someone in the east, God sends you west. For several days.

So where do you feel most helpless? Where are you hitting a dead end? Where do you only see darkness? Where do you feel like you’re hitting your head against a brick wall?

I’ve discovered some difficult things about God. But I’ve also discovered some truly wonderful things about God over the years.

~God rarely does what I want.

~God doesn’t do things the way I think God should.

~God doesn’t ever seem to do anything directly; always some roundabout way.

~God doesn’t hold efficiency in very high regard. Love and mercy and compassion and relationships take priority.

God’s misdirection. This is good news for us, and for the world. Amen.

 

Do not Make a Distinction Between Them and Us

Acts 11:1-18

I wonder if you share this thinking: I have this default setting that keeps telling me that God uses Godly people to make good things happen; and God also spends quite a bit of time trying to reform the ungodly people. Do you have that assumption—that God is better able to use Godly people because they are on the same page? And part of that assumption is that we know who the Godly people are. Right? You can name them.

Exactly what the church leaders in Jerusalem thought in this text from Acts. You see, they were Godly people, committed followers of Jesus. They were doing good things. They were organizing a new church in a culture that wasn’t exactly supportive of their efforts. They were so sure of their Godliness that they called Peter out on some of his behavior because it didn’t line up with that. They understood that God only works through the Godly people. Which, of course, was them.

Before we judge them too harshly, understand that they had some reason to think that. Up until then, all believers in Jesus were Jewish. Male circumcision was the sign of inclusion in God’s covenant with Abraham—and there’s no one more Godly than Abraham. Every believer—every Christian—was circumcised. It had always been God’s way. It was a covenant of trust, of relationship, of commitment, of a life given to God. It was Godly. You could tell who the Godly people were. Or at least you could tell who they weren’t.

So they called Peter out on his ungodly behavior, saying, “You had dinner with uncircumcised people? What were you thinking?! Those people know nothing of God. They aren’t Godly—they don’t even know what it means! Now, because of you, they will assume that they are Godly, and will have no reason to actually become Godly.”

But Peter had a different perspective because he was told by God what God was doing. He tells the church leaders exactly what happened. He had a vision of all the ungodly animals coming down in a large sheet. Every food animal that was forbidden, sinful, that separated one from God was lowered in front of him. God not only tolerated, this, God commanded Peter to eat them. Three times this happened, each time Peter refused, saying that he knew that no believer in Jesus could ever eat these things. And each time God answered telling Peter that God decides what is Godly and what isn’t.

While he’s puzzling about this some unbelievers came from Caesarea. “The Spirit told [Peter] to go with them and not to make a distinction between them and us.” Make no distinction between us as Godly people and them as unbelieving, ungodly, unrighteous people. So he ended up baptizing them.

What are our assumptions today about who is Godly and who isn’t? By what standard do we impose status of Godliness? Who do we assume God will bless? Those who pray a certain way? Who wear certain clothes? Whose children behave in particular ways? Who live a life-style we approve of? Think for a minute about who you believe to be “ungodly.” . . . “The Spirit told [Peter] to go with them and not to make a distinction between them and us.”

So you imagine Peter’s surprise when he was informed by God to go with these pagan unbelievers. You can imagine Peter’s shock when God said I’m coming to them, too, just the way they are. Even though they believe differently than you and understand differently than you. You see, Peter, God is powerfully at work well outside your standards.

Well, God is powerfully at work well outside our standards, too. God can and does reveal God’s reign through people with dirty clothes, through disruptive children, through people who don’t pray articulately, through those whose morals and ethics are different than mine.

Peter finally got that. God will do what God does, through those God calls to do it. God decides who is Godly and who isn’t. Not us. And God declared these people from Caesarea to be Godly. “The Spirit told [Peter] to go with them and not to make a distinction between them and us.”

So he told the leaders in Jerusalem. And (here’s the miracle) all those pastors in Jerusalem got it too. They came to understand that they weren’t any more Godly than anyone else. If they saw God at work somewhere, somehow, they were to get on board. If they understood God to be loving people different than them, they were to love them too. And so they did. They praised God for working in the lives of people they had previously considered ungodly.

The honest question for us is who do we consider to be ungodly? What if God is teaching us something about God through them? What if God is working in Godly ways through them? “The Spirit tells us to go with them and not to make a distinction between them and us.” That’s hard enough.

But here’s the really difficult thing. What if God is working in Godly ways through you, just the way you are right now? What if you have something to teach the world about who God is and how God works, today? What if, even if you think of yourself as not particularly Godly, God is showing love in the world through you right now? What if God has declared you Godly.

God will do what God does, through those God calls to do it. God decides who is Godly and who isn’t. Not us. And God declares you Godly people today, right now. “The Spirit tells us to go with each other and not to make a distinction between us.” God made you to reveal God to the world. Just the way you are.

 

Non Christians, Please Keep Complaining About the Church!

John 21:1-19

Here’s where we pick up the story. Jesus has been raised from the dead, appeared to Mary Magdalene, appeared to the disciples in a locked room, appeared to the disciples again with Thomas there, and now he appears for the last time to them in John’s gospel.

I’m really thinking Peter just isn’t getting this. After hearing Mary tell how she saw Jesus, then after seeing Jesus himself twice—raised from the dead, mind you—now, at the beginning of this text, Peter wants to go fishing. Like this was a normal day. Like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Some other disciples decide to tag along—again, as if everything was the same.

Then there’s Thomas, who made such a big deal out of seeing Jesus, touching the nail prints in his hands, then falling on his face and proclaiming, “My Lord and my God!”

Not to mention that at that time all of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and sent out by Jesus on a mission of forgiveness. A new job. Now they’re just heading out fishing. Nothing like the first day of a new job taking a vacation day.

So Jesus stands on the beach while they’re out fishing, but they can’t tell who it is. Now several of these disciples are professional fishermen. Fishing is their life, their livelihood, their skill. But they aren’t catching a thing.

So this guy is standing there on the shore yelling at them. They don’t know it’s Jesus, they don’t recognize him at all. But whoever it is, is giving them fishing advice. Do you know how annoying that must have been?

I remember playing baseball and going several at bats without a hit. Frustrated, I began goofing around with the bat. In the on-deck circle I’m swinging left-handed, changing my grip, anything to kind of break out this slump. I heard one of the moms from the other team—who I’d never seen before—say rather loudly, “Look at the way that kid’s swinging the bat. No wonder he can’t get a hit! Why don’t you hold the bat right, kid!” That was frustrating. I can’t remember what happened, but I most certainly did not appreciate her so-called advice.

I wonder if the disciples felt the same way. Some guy on the beach telling these professionals their nets are on the wrong side of the boat. The last thing they’re wanting to do is listen to advice from someone on the shore.

But these fishermen/disciples did hear. They did listen. They did what the stranger suggested—tossing their nets out of the other side of the boat. I don’t understand why, but they did. And they caught a huge load of fish. If they had known it was Jesus, sure they would have done what he said. But they didn’t know it was him. Just some stranger who, as likely as not, had no business telling them what to do.

Only later did they recognize this stranger as Jesus. Then once they knew it was Jesus they shared a meal; and Peter was given the chance to redeem his previous denial of Jesus. Earlier, while Jesus was on trial, Peter had publicly denied that he knew him three times. Now he publicly affirms his love for Jesus three times.

But for some reason they heard the voice of Jesus in this perceived stranger—enough to follow. They put aside their pride and life-long experience, recognizing that what they were doing wasn’t working, and did what he suggested. Maybe they get this resurrection thing better than I give them credit for.

Here’s where I think this gospel text is hard to hear. This is where these disciples leave me behind. Lots of us, including me, have been Christian for a long time—even Lutheran for a long time. Some of us have never known anything else. We believe we’re pretty good at this Jesus thing, this faith thing, this discipleship thing. So for many of us, it’s easy to disregard the voices of those on the shore, who have left the church or never been part of it. Those who find the church irrelevant, out of touch, judgmental. It’s hard to hear the voice of Jesus in those critiques because, after all, we know Christianity better than they do.

When people outside the church say things like, “I have no problem with Jesus but no use for the church,” it’s easy for us to brush it off as ignorance. When they tell us that they don’t feel welcomed, that we’re out of touch, that when they look at Christians they see no difference from any other person (except more hypocrisy), we just casually disregard it because they just don’t know. They can’t know. We’ve been in the church a lot longer. We are the professionals; they’re just yelling advice from the shore.

But here’s what gives me hope. They keep yelling advice. I can’t help but wonder that if Jesus wasn’t speaking through them, they wouldn’t be yelling at us at all. If it wasn’t Jesus coming to us they would simply ignore us and let us go on our way fishing from the wrong side of the boat. Why should they care?

I wonder if we heard the voices from outside the church, if we listened for the voice of Jesus might be there, we might end up sitting down with Jesus and having a meal with them. We might recognize our new life in the resurrected Christ, and more live it more fully, following him more closely in the world. We might trust that the resurrected Jesus comes to us, even when we’re fishing. Even when we’re not listening. Even in our arrogance. Jesus comes. He’s speaking. Like it or not, he’s bringing life and hope and newness to the world. Even to us. Life is new, because Jesus is raised from the dead.

 

Thumbing Our Noses Is Different than Forgiveness. 2 Easter B

John 20:19-31

Why is Jesus appearing to people after the resurrection?

The two appearances by Jesus in this reading from John happen on two consecutive Sundays evenings: the day Jesus was resurrected and a week later on the following Sunday. We have the 2^nd and the 3^rd post-resurrection appearances of Jesus here.

So why is he appearing? What is he trying to accomplish?

He can’t just be convincing disciples that he is raised from the dead. If that was what he was trying to do, he’d be appearing all over the place to all kinds of people. But he’s not. He’s appearing to a select bunch. The disciples. Those he had chosen as his followers. Not just the twelve apostles, but all of his disciples—all who had been following him, learning from him, believing him. He’s not appearing as a divine “I told you so” or thumbing his nose at those who doubt or aren’t sure. He’s got a message for his disciples. And that message isn’t about convincing people he’s alive. He could do that much better than we could. All he has to do is keep appearing to people. So that, apparently, isn’t the reason he appears to his disciples.

Rather, this is all about the continuation of God’s mission in Christ. Here in John, the resurrection of Jesus is less about proving something and more about sending the disciples to continue his work.

You are sent, he says; with the power of the Holy Spirit, he says; to forgive sins, he says. If you do it, it’s done. If you don’t, it isn’t. That’s why he’s appearing to them. To empower them with the Holy Spirit; to send them out to forgive.

“Forgive” is a word we use all the time. But I’m not convinced we get it.

Forgive=has its root meaning in the idea of “moving past.” That doesn’t mean forgetting, ignoring, or pretending, but moving beyond. In this context it means moving past the offense of the other to see the image of God within them. The offense, the brokenness, the hurt doesn’t stop us from seeing God’s love, God’s light, God’s life in them. With forgiveness, we look past the offense to recognize the image of God in the other.

Retain=root meaning in “power or strength.” So here, it means that the offense, the hurt does, in fact, have the power to block the image of God. Our vision is blocked by the offense and our own hurt; and the image of God present in the other isn’t recognized.

Forgiving–the offense and brokenness is less of a barrier. You can see beyond it. Like a Dutch door. It’s there, but you can recognize what’s beyond.

Retaining–the offense and brokenness is more like a solid door that is locked. Can’t see what’s on the other side.

So Jesus comes to his disciples to fill them with the Holy Spirit and send them to look past people’s offenses and see these broken people in the world as the very people God loves. Jesus fills the disciples with the Holy Spirit – the breath of God, the essence of God – to make sure they are able to do this forgiveness thing. Because it’s at the heart of who God is, therefore it’s at the heart of his disciples. In forgiving, they reveal God.

Isn’t this what Jesus came for in the first place: to show us God’s heart? What God is like? And now he’s commissioning all his disciples to continue that same mission. To show the world what God is like. To reveal the heart of God. Which means to be about forgiveness.

And that is what happens when we recognize the image of God in broken people. When we can look past our own hurt and see God’s giftedness, God’s love, God’s handiwork as the center of who they are.

That’s who Jesus is for us, isn’t he? One who looks past our brokenness and sees us as people in the image of God’s love—who are cared about, gifted, and loved by God. Without condition, without measure. That’s how Jesus looks at us. Because that’s who we are.

Therefore, who better than Jesus’ own disciples to look beyond the brokenness, the hurt, the sin of the world and see the light of God’s love there? We, the broken people that God loves; we, the sinful people that God still is gracious to; we, the prideful people God continues to shower mercy upon; we are the ones called now to do the same in the world.

It is in this activity of forgiving in the world that the church reveals Jesus. That’s it. Not in proving the resurrection; not in discovering empirical evidence that God exists; not in debating whether Jesus looked more Norwegian or Australian. According to the gospel-writer John, forgiveness is really the purpose we are empowered by the Spirit and sent by Jesus to do. That’s our focus. That’s the Spirit at work in us. That’s why Jesus kept appearing to his disciples: to send them to continue his work of forgiveness—even today.

The Holy Spirit is guiding us and empowering us along this line anyway. As disciples of Jesus Christ, we are called to deal with the world the way God deals with us. So we follow the leading of the Spirit—we don’t need to argue with people, we just start forgiving them. We don’t need to debate with them, we just start recognizing God’s love in them. We don’t need to think we’re superior to them, we just start seeing what we can learn about God from them. They, too, are created in God’s image, loved by God, and gifted by God. We are called and empowered to recognize that.

The resurrected Jesus comes to us. Not so those who believe can thumb their noses at those who don’t, but so that we can see God’s light and life in others. Baptized into Christ, our very deepest identity now is rooted in forgiveness—moving past brokenness to the image of God recognized in those we meet. Christ is risen. He is risen indeed. Hallelujah.

 

A Safe Place to be Vulnerable–Lent 5

5^th Lent

Isaiah 43:16-21; John 12:1-8

 So, what do you think of Mary of Bethany in this gospel text? She takes perfume that’s worth almost a full year’s salary, ad pours it on Jesus’ feet—the work of a slave. Then she wipes it with her hair—a scandalous act for a woman. What are one or two words you might use to describe her? Free spirit? Grateful? Overly dramatic? Devoted? Wasteful?

The word I think I would use is “authentic.” She is being herself in a very unique situation. Her brother, Lazarus, has just been raised from the dead by Jesus and she is responding to that. And she’s doing it in her own, unique, genuine, and authentic way. John writes that her anointing of Jesus’ feet with this expensive perfume is a preview of his being anointed for burial. Of course gospel-writer John would find deep meaning in this act and relate it to the cross. That’s what he does. But I’m not sure in this story that Mary of Bethany had that in mind at all. Her actions are her own, with her own motives of gratitude and devotion. She is being, well, Mary. And she’s not trying to impress Jesus, Judas, or anyone else. She is responding to her brother’s restored life in an authentically “Mary” kind of way: by breaking open an extravagantly expensive jar of perfume and anointing Jesus’ feet with it, then wiping his feet with her hair.

Her response doesn’t meet Judas’ approval—even though many would say that Judas has a point. Judas is one of the twelve insiders whom Jesus picked, but his criticism doesn’t stop her at all. It doesn’t even matter to her. Her response to Jesus compassion isn’t influenced at all by what others think. Not only is that authentic, but it’s courageous. Because by acting in an authentic way, she’s opening herself up for public ridicule. She’s quite vulnerable to that right now.

Jesus, however, loves her response with the perfume. Not because it’s the right one or one that he approves of, but because it’s authentic for her. Her response to Jesus’ compassion comes from the core of her identity. It’s not meant to gain approval, not for anyone else, but just a response that comes from deep within her heart.

And that’s why we usually don’t behave authentically.

When you respond to Jesus (or anyone) in an authentic way, it leaves you vulnerable. Look at the criticism Judas levels at Mary. It’s harsh. He’s not just criticizing her actions, because her actions are coming from the depths of who she is. He’s criticizing her as a person. And if it wasn’t Judas saying it, how many of us would agree with him (because if he says it, it must be wrong)? How many of us would look at each other, roll our eyes, sigh, and whisper to one another, “There she goes again. She is just so strange.” And then we’d avoid her, gravitate toward others who also think she’s strange, and end up excluding her.

Mary is taking a tremendous risk by being authentic. Authenticity makes you vulnerable because it opens us up to pain that is so easily inflicted by those around us.

We live in a culture that doesn’t want us to recognize—much less admit—our vulnerability. To be vulnerable is to be weak. It is considered wimpy. Buck up, we say. Be strong, we say. Tough it out, we say. Our heroes are people of strength and power. They aren’t vulnerable, they never back down, they never give in, they are never weak.

Mary has the courage to be authentic in the face of what others think about her. She does this extravagant thing because she has been touched by Jesus’ compassion and grace. When you are most vulnerable and you are met with compassion; when you are most vulnerable and are met with love, you are given new life.

I think that’s the church at its best. A place where you are met with compassion and love when you are most vulnerable. You see, that’s how Jesus continuously meet us—when we are weakest and most vulnerable, he comes to us in love, compassion, and grace.

At our Lenten devotion time last Wednesday, those at our table were talking about this text. The question we were dealing with had to do with Mary of Bethany’s extravagant gratitude. What were we grateful for, the question was asked? Many said that this congregation was pretty close to the top of the list. Several people shared that when they were living their lives in hard places, this was a safe community for them. They were welcomed, cared for, and held without any expectations or assumptions. They could be authentic in their pain, in their weakness, and in their vulnerability without much fear of reprisal or criticism. A safe place to be vulnerable—a safe place to be authentic.

I have a friend who experienced the death of a family member a while ago. She has spent the last several months being very vulnerable with a group of friends who’ve held her, walked alongside her, prayed with her during her journey of grief. She has cried, anguished, lamented, and shared her journey—trusting that no one would tell her to be strong, or to quit being so tearful, to get on with her life. Her grief is authentic, and her journey through it is just as authentic. Not looking for approval, just a safe place to be vulnerable—a safe place to be authentic.

Can you imagine the freedom that would come with that kind of safety? To know that you can express what truly in your heart, knowing that you will only be loved in return? That’s who we are in Christ. That’s what it looks like when the church is authentic.

I pray you would find this to be an authentic community here at LCM. I pray you would feel free to be authentic here. Jesus has touched us with compassion and love, we are free to respond in an authentic way. We are free to live in an authentic way. We are forgiven; we are loved; we are free. In that, we are given new life.

 

God Loves Dysfunctional Families–Even Yours: 4 Lent

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

Of all the parables Jesus tells in the gospels, this is, I believe, my favorite one. For some reason, God has captured me with this story. No matter where I am in my faith journey, God speaks to me in it.

Let me tell you what God is saying this time. This story is not about a son repenting but about how deeply the father loves him. This is not about the son coming home but about the father’s joy at feeling whole again. This is a story about the joy of a father overflowing out of himself into the whole town! He’s grieved the loss of one of his sons. He’s longed for both his children be in the house, was desperate for his love to be made complete in a relationship with both kids. And now it seems to have happened! The son who left has come back. The one who was lost is found. His family is restored! Broken relationships are whole again! They get to start anew, all is well, all is forgiven. Though the younger son has a speech all practiced, the father isn’t even listening—because the father’s deepest desire is fulfilled: his relationships with those he loves are whole again.

But there’s a new problem that develops at the end of the story. At the beginning of the parable the younger son removes himself from a relationship with the father; now at the end the older son is doing the same thing. He cannot share his father’s joy. He is separating himself.

Isn’t that the way with families, though? You kind of get one relationship doing OK and another one fractures. In spite of the love you share, something goes wrong, a misunderstanding takes place, a word is spoken carelessly, an unwise decision is made, and everyone is affected. It just seems like when one relationship is finally doing OK, there’s a new misunderstanding with someone else.

Families are complicated. They’re messy. Every family at a deep level understands itself to be somewhat dysfunctional. Quirks, weird behaviors, painful issues that aren’t talked about, unresolved resentments that can stay under the surface, situations where you kind of have to walk on eggshells to keep the peace. Families are difficult. They can sometimes be hard work.

The only thing families have going for them is love. If the basis of family relationships is everybody behaving well, then no family has a chance. It’s not good behavior, it’s just loving each other. If in some imperfect, broken way, we manage to do that, that’s the best we can do. Everything else has to fit somehow around that.

That’s expressed in this parable. A strained family with damaged relationships. Two different brothers, each with his own brokenness. One runs away to find his own life, the other thinks good behavior will give him life. But it is the father’s great love for both of his sons that is the point of the story. Simple unconditional love for his two very different sons. A love that reaches out to each one, that includes each one, that drives his relationship with each one.

If good behavior was the foundation of their relationship, the older son would be the favorite. If individuality and self-expression was the foundation of their relationship, it would be the younger son. But that’s not the case. The father just loves his children. Period. That’s all the matters, it’s the bottom line, it’s the foundational piece.

So, of course the father will welcome the prodigal son back home. Of course he’ll run out to him in a very undignified fashion, give him robes, rings, parties, fatted calves.

And, of course the father goes out to the son who has always been obedient to bring him into the party. The father doesn’t love this older son any less, doesn’t appreciate him any less. But this is a celebration of the father’s love and joy that that has been restored and simply can’t be contained. It’s spilling out everywhere! The father thinks everybody should be celebrating! A fatted calf is way more than one family can eat; the whole town is included! Everyone is invited to share in the joy of the father, because this son of his—one of the sons that was lost and that he loves so deeply—is now found.

Whether that son leaves again or not isn’t the point. Whether the other son continues comes to the party or not isn’t the point. The father loves them both, no matter what. When love wins out, that’s a cause for celebration.

This is a story of the power of a father’s love. Of God’s love.

And it’s not based on good behavior; it’s not based on obedience. It’s not based on fixing brokenness or repentance or anything else that we do or don’t do. It’s a story of God’s love for each one of you. Prodigal, obedient, reckless, faithful, inside, outside, connected, on the fringes. You cannot make God love you more with obedience or repentance, and you cannot make God love you less with disbelief or selfishness. God’s love for you simply cannot change. Period. God has a death and resurrection invested in you. God’s love isn’t going anywhere.

And here’s where it gets fun. Sometimes, we see God’s love win out. Sometimes we get to see one of God’s beloved children get a new start, experience real forgiveness, recognize that they have been touched by grace. Sometimes we even get to be part of that. But always, we are invited to celebrate. God speaks in this parable. And the point isn’t to call sinners to repentance as much as it is to invite everyone to celebrate God’s love.

If we do nothing else in worship, we should at least celebrate the reality of God’s love that has made us new. Sometimes we get to see that in real ways. Always we get to celebrate it. God’s love is for all people. God’s love wins out. You are forgiven, and we’re all invited to that celebration.